Steven L. Peck
Singularity
When did love first enter this physical embedding?
Which creature first felt that mixture of
lust, longing, caring that went to the
heart of being? Which collection of cells
or protoplasm first looked upon its
beloved and felt its flesh lean toward
and yearn for that other who held its
gaze? What thing first had its breath
stolen as it looked upon another and
found something within so powerful
that all else faded away in a passion
so inward and compelling that love
only describes what happened in that
fleshy breast (or tentacle)? Was it here
on earth? In some hominin perhaps? Or
in some ancestor of elephant or dolphin?
Or in some rat? Or parrot or raven?
Or was it first found in some star far away
from this galaxy that we call home? In some
slime-pool dweller perhaps under a different star
shining into their skin and out again in
expressions of the same love we know? It is hard to say
but in that moment in that instant, everything
changed and the cold dark things that tick tick
tick through the cosmos to the rhythms of
fixed clocks yielded forever to things that slide
gracefully between the spaces of force and fixture
Singularity
When did love first enter this physical embedding?
Which creature first felt that mixture of
lust, longing, caring that went to the
heart of being? Which collection of cells
or protoplasm first looked upon its
beloved and felt its flesh lean toward
and yearn for that other who held its
gaze? What thing first had its breath
stolen as it looked upon another and
found something within so powerful
that all else faded away in a passion
so inward and compelling that love
only describes what happened in that
fleshy breast (or tentacle)? Was it here
on earth? In some hominin perhaps? Or
in some ancestor of elephant or dolphin?
Or in some rat? Or parrot or raven?
Or was it first found in some star far away
from this galaxy that we call home? In some
slime-pool dweller perhaps under a different star
shining into their skin and out again in
expressions of the same love we know? It is hard to say
but in that moment in that instant, everything
changed and the cold dark things that tick tick
tick through the cosmos to the rhythms of
fixed clocks yielded forever to things that slide
gracefully between the spaces of force and fixture
Steven L. Peck is a biology professor at Brigham Young University. His poetry book, Incorrect Astronomy, was published last year by Aldrich Press (with cover blurbs by poet Pattiann Rogers and Utah Poet Laureate Lance Larson). His poetry has appeared in Abyss & Apex, Bellowing Ark, Dialogue, Glyphs III, Irreantum, Pedestal Magazine, Red Rock Review, Tales of the Talisman (Nominated for the Rhysling Award), Victorian Violet Press, and Wilderness Interface Zone. Other creative works include three novels such as his magical realism novel, The Scholar of Moab, published by Torrey House Press—named AML's best novel of 2011 and a Montaigne Medal Finalist—and A Short Stay in Hell. He has published numerous short stories, many reprinted in his collection, Wandering Realities, published by Zarahemla Books. More about his work can be found at http://www.stevenlpeck.com/.
